Instinct
by Tarafina
Summary: She swore there was a sound… and if she reacted with a mad dash for her glock, so sue her!


**Title**: Instinct  
**Category**: Smallville  
**Genre**: Romance  
**Pairing**: Chloe/Oliver  
**Rating**: T/Mature  
**Prompt**: Picture by ellashy  
**Word Count**: 1,670  
**Summary**: She swore there was a sound… and if she reacted with a mad dash for her glock, so sue her!

**_Instinct_**  
-1/1-

Instinct.

Chloe _lived _on it. After all her years, it only made sense that she woke to the tiniest of sounds. One second she was fast asleep, dreaming of some beautiful other world, with no fear for anything or anyone. The next she was on high alert, her body stiff and her hand reaching for the glock beneath her pillow. Wide awake now, she didn't consider where she was or who it might be, only that someone or something was in the room with them and that wasn't acceptable. The white sheet beneath her was soft, warm from hours of sleep, but the space beneath the pillow was freezing cold, shocking the skin of her arm into reaction. The many pillows stacked beneath her now slightly tilted, listening head reminded her that it wasn't so long ago she'd fallen asleep in the lap of luxury.

Well aware that she was naked but feeling not the least bit self-conscious for it, she stared out into the darkness, noticing as her sight became clearer, seeing the outline of the chair and desk a few feet to her left, papers and her laptop scattered on top of it. She wanted to reach for the lamp near her arm, wondered if it might startle the unknown person B&Eing their hotel suite long enough for her to get her gun up and aimed at him. She could hear her heart in her ears, pounding a thick staccato against her ribs; she had to either react or relax. Maybe it was nothing, she couldn't hear anything now, but maybe it was something and she wouldn't forgive herself for ignoring what could be the end of them.

Oliver slept peacefully next to her, his long, warm body not the least bit tensed. She could feel the weight of his arm across her back and knew that if he'd heard the same thing the muscles there would be rippled now, rigid as he readied for a fight. Unwilling to believe it was only her imagination and let it go, however, she hoped for the best and while rolling onto her back in a very quick movement, she reached for the lamp at her side and leveled her gun in the air.

The shock of lamplight blinded her momentarily and she cursed inwardly that she might've just done something unmistakable stupid. But as she gained back her sight, she was left staring at an empty room; nobody there to taunt her or risk her life or threaten the man now waking next to her. "What the _hell_…" he mumbled, eyes fluttering open.

Her first thought was to put the gun away and ramble off some excuse that his sleep-addled brain would no doubt accept before he let it go, yawned, and returned to sleep. But she wasn't the only one who had sharp instincts.

Sitting up, his brow furrowed as his eyes took in her, the gun and the seemingly empty room. "Am I missing something?"

She laughed under her breath, feeling foolish. "Just my paranoia kicking into overdrive."

"Mm, no…" He looked down at her lap, where her glock was still held tight in one hand. "I think I'm witnessing _that_ first-hand…" Reaching over, he detangled her fingers from the grip. "Care to enlighten me, Sidekick?"

Blowing out an irritated breath, she looked around the room with narrowed eyes, still somewhat suspicious. "I heard something."

He stared, waiting for her to elaborate, but when she didn't he blinked at her. "Was it a bad something? Did it have a certain kind of ring to it? Was there an evil cackling I should be aware of?"

Pursing her lips, she tried to hide her amusement from him. "Ha, ha, Oliver. I'm being _serious_."

"Seriously suspicious," he argued, leaning back against the pillows. "We've been on vacation all of…" With a yawn, he checked the bedside alarm clock, "What, ten, maybe eleven hours?" He shook his head, half-smiling. "Not that I don't appreciate your dedication to your job but we've only had three hours of sleep in almost two days…"

"I know." Sighing at herself, she frowned. "And those three hours were very nice," she told him, eyes wide for emphasis. "But then there was a sound…"

"Right…" He nodded. "The sound…"

Rolling her eyes, she crossed her arms over her chest. "Hey, I'm not _imagining _this! There was a sound, I woke up, I reacted! Would you rather I let us be slaughtered in bed?"

Amused, his lips curled. "And what were you going to do?" Lifting the gun into the air, he stared at it pointedly. "Shoot some faceless, shadowed would-be-attacker because you woke up and thought you heard something?"

"I'm sure I would've sent off a warning shot to keep them at bay for a second until I could figure out a better plan…" she muttered.

"And what's this guy doing in here at four in the morning anyway? And _why _is he here? All we have is luggage, most of which is filled with lingerie—"

Interrupting, she exclaimed, "I brought plenty of clothes, thank you. If _you _packed lingerie for me then that's your problem. Just because you can flash your Visa card and people practically hand you clothes just to see you wearing them doesn't mean I can!"

"I don't see what we need with much clothing, regardless," he argued, firmly. "This is a vacation! There will be copious amounts of sex, sun bathing, and a serious lack of morals… In fact, if you'd let me talk you into Vegas, we probably would've been remarried in front of an Elvis impersonator by now."

Snorting, she shook her head. "One wedding plastered all over the gossip magazines was enough, thanks… I don't think the public needs any Drunken Queens Slurring Vows headlines in the near future."

Smirking, he shrugged. "The point _is_… This is _not _work." Reaching for her hand, he squeezed gently. "So please, turn off Watchtower and let my entirely too overworked wife come out to play?"

Leaning back on the bed, her elbow poised to hold her up, she tucked the sheet in around her and smiled rather sheepishly, staring at the sheet and blanket combination comfortably snug between her knees. "Okay, so I _might _have overreacted…" she admitted lightly.

Grinning, he laid his head back on the pillow, angled up so he could take in her expression. "Might have? Some poor bellboy could've been permanently staining the Persian rug right now because you got a little trigger happy…" Brow furrowed as if he suddenly remembered something, he looked down at the gun in his lap. "And how did you smuggle this through customs, anyway?" Lips pursing, he shook his head, "For that matter, how'd you get it into the hotel? They have some high tech security here."

Smirking devilishly, she cocked a brow. "Are you doubting my abilities, Arrow?"

Lifting a brow, he stared at her thoughtfully. "You're not going to tell me, are you?"

Slyly, she shook her head before rolling over and sliding her hand up his warm, bare chest. "But feel free to try and get the information out of me by any means necessary," she encouraged, her voice taking on a husky lilt.

Eyes lowering to stare at her lips, his gaze darkened as she slid a knee along his hard abdomen and lay her body snug against his.

"Any means?" he murmured, lowering his face as hers moved closer.

She nodded ever so slightly, her nose nuzzling his. "Mmhmm."

Hands sliding down his arm, she moved herself atop him, straddling his lean waist, the sheet falling away. In the same moment her fingers took her favorite glock from his hand, his palms were moving to cup her hips, thumbs stroking her soft skin. Forgetting all about what had them awake at 4:38 in the morning, Oliver freely explored her exposed body while she captured his mouth in an open and passionate kiss. With her fingers skimming up and down his torso, teasing him as she sucked his lips and twined her tongue with his, she rocked her hips ever so slightly. A growl escaped him before he'd rolled her onto her back, pinning her hips down firmly with his own.

"Looks like you're wide awake and raring to go, Mr. Queen," she murmured, grinning up at him. "Sure you don't want a little more beauty rest before I exhaust you again?"

Laughing thickly, he thrust his hips against her, his rigid shaft sliding against her wet heat and making her whimper. "I'll survive," he assured, before taking her mouth once more.

It was only seconds later when Oliver suddenly paused, narrowing his eyes. "Are you still holding the gun?" he asked, searching to find her other arm.

Tucked beneath his forgotten pillow, her fingers till held the handle of her glock. "I'm still not convinced I didn't hear anything," she admitted, scrunching her nose.

Sighing, he shook his head. "You want to investigate, don't you?"

With a soft smile, she nodded. "It'll only take five minutes." Sitting up, she squeezed his shoulder as he moved out from between her thighs. Motioning toward his noticeable nakedness and straining arousal, she smirked. "Hold that thought…" And with that, she was off to see if her mind was playing tricks; if all went good, she'd be back in bed and making it up to her husband in no time. If not… Well, then yet another vacation became a mission. T'was the fate of her life; she supposed.

"Chloe… Will you _please _come back to bed?"

After five minutes and no sign of an intruder, she gave in. Sitting center in the bed, arms crossed over his chest, he cocked a brow. "Well?"

Just about cave and admit he was right (although stubbornly), she heard another noise and paused, eyes narrowed. From Oliver's expression, he had to. And it looked like that vacation sex was going to be put on hold; she and her husband had some scoobying to do.


End file.
